


A Price of Winning

by DarkCapitol (plumage_of_gold)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Forced Prostitution, M/M, Prostitution, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-01
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-02-27 17:17:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2700965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plumage_of_gold/pseuds/DarkCapitol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the year after the 74th Games, Peeta is called back to the Capitol for 'publicity'. And by publicity, Snow means he will be sold to the highest bidder. When a rich young Capitol man buys the pleasure of Peeta's company for a night, how will he cope with the new life he is forced to lead?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Client

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter is the set-up. For those of you wishing for more 'action' (that is, sex), the very end of the first chapter and the entirety of the second should meet expectations. For moral reasons, Peeta has been aged up, as if he was 17 in his first Games and having turned 18 during the time between the end of the Games and the commencement of this story.

I am nervous, to say the least. My experience in this area is non-existent, and I have no idea what to expect through that door. And with a man, too? I’ve always known I was straight, but I guess that doesn’t matter much in the Capitol. Whoever could pay for me, gets me.

Because that’s how it works here. You go through hell, you come back to return to a semblance of your old life. At least, that’s what they tell everyone. No one mentions the work you might be required to do for the President, servicing the darkest needs of the Capitol behind securely closed doors. Only a select few know about the system, and those that do fear to talk of it lest they face some sort of retribution. And that’s how it is for me. After the Games, I was called back to the Capitol for ‘publicity.’ Just me. Not Katniss. While there I had to pose wearing aprons and holding flour-dusted loaves of bread, for use on Capitol magazines and advertising. Turns out my ‘skill’ of baking started a craze in the Capitol, with hundreds of fashionable citizens rushing to purchase functional kitchens and raw ingredients. It sickened me, though. Why was baking merely a trend here when hundreds of bakers across the districts struggled on a daily basis to try and put some of their own sustenance on the table? After the photo shoots and public demonstrations, I was called for a private meeting with President Snow, in the privacy of his mansion. It was there I learnt about the implicit business running unnoticed like a tumour, hidden by the glossy exterior of the Capitol’s grandeur. And it was there I knew my life as a Victor would never be easy. Once you win the games, there’s no going back.

I guessed what was really going on the moment I was called for a second publicity shoot and demonstration in the Capitol. I arrive amidst the hungry throng of excited denizens, seeing nothing but a sea of colour and painted faces. I get led to the upper district of the Capitol, and show off my skill. As I glance up, I see the President. A nod in my direction confirms my fears. Tonight will be my first.

A dinner time engagement ended, and as the clock showed 9:00pm, two peacekeepers came. My escort. Leading me to a tinted car, I was blind within the glowing metropolis of the Capitol. I am handed a card- “Herodion Florinus. 9.30pm. Apartment 3.” My client. The car slows down. I get brought out by the arm, and the peacekeepers gesture me towards the door. The intricate carvings on the oak instantly reek of expense, and I know that whoever lives in these apartments would be able to afford whatever they want. As I get closer, the doors smoothly part, leaving open a grand entrance hall, which put the most opulent parts of the District 12 justice building to shame. A crystal chandelier casts a purple glow over starkly contrasting black and white tiles and furniture. Smaller, more natural lights surround the walls, casting their brilliance onto the wall, highlighting what must be the very finest of modern art. I turn around, but my escorts have already disappeared. As I look, the doors close behind me, showing the same oaken patterns from the inside of the building. Disoriented within this rich interior, I see an illuminated panel on the left wall. Walking up to it, I see names. Including Herodion Florinus. My client. The placard directs me to floor three, and I move to the elevator. Getting inside, I push the button for the third floor and lean against the velvet-covered walls. What was going to happen here?

The elevator doors opened to an entrance hall that was just as richly decorated as the building’s foyer. Plush couches and another chandelier catch my eye, although I soon find myself focusing on the door a few metres away from me. It appears metal, but on closer inspection I see that it is finely wrought out of some precious stone, or shell. In the middle was a modestly sized but bejewelled knocker. I am nervous, to say the least. My experience in this area is non-existent, and I have no idea what to expect through that door. And with a man, too? I’ve always known I was straight, but I guess that doesn’t matter much in the Capitol. Whoever could pay for me, gets me. And it seems this man can definitely pay for me.

I knock on the door. I hear footsteps, and then a rusting with a chain. The door opens, and I see the man who I would be servicing this evening. My eyes are drawn immediately to his face. He looks young, early twenties. His nose is perfectly symmetrical, his lips an intoxicating shade of black fading into deep red. But the salient feature on his face would be the eyebrows. Two huge, dark entities, they sat on his head like two crows of darkness. One arched up and to the right, the other staying flat but moving to the side of his face. The darkness is broken with fine lines of silver running through, a crisscross that offsets the darkness and actually makes him look quite attractive.

No. Don’t think like this. He is a monster. He bought you for his pleasure.

He was wearing a silver and black dressing gown, the front open to his chest. His skin was perfectly smooth and clear, no sign of alteration or blemish. His hair, or wig I suppose, was black, with another streak of silver running through.

“Peeta.” He spoke. I was still staring at his eyebrows.

“Yes,” I respond. What do I say? How do prostitutes normally greet their clients?

“Oh, I am forgetting all my manners. Herodion Florinus. I’ve heard so much about you.” He winked at me. The affectation of his voice was bordering comical, but all I could focus on was my heartbeat, the stress letting it build to a crescendo. I stayed silent.

“Strong and silent type, are you? Well, well, come inside. I have some things prepared.”

His hand touches mine. My insides revolt, but I find myself following him. I am drawn quickly past multiple bedrooms, bathrooms, lounges, hallways and dining rooms. After weaving through the maze of rooms for about a minute, he leads me to a smaller room. The bed in the middle, decorated with canary yellow chiffon, marks it as a bedroom. The thing I had been dreading.

He lets go of my hand and moves across to the dresser, a mauve platform on all but invisible legs. Picking up a console of some sort, he points it at the wall, enters a few numbers and places it back down. A panel of the wall, with gilt edging and designs of golden birds, sank into the floor, drawn low by some mechanics within the walls. The wall became a doorway, and I knew that was where I was doomed to spend the night. Herodion’s secret room.

“In here then, darling,” he says, coming back over to me and clutching my hand again. He pulls me over to the opening. “I’ll be in in a minute. I’ve laid out some things you should wear. Get out of those old things as quickly as you can, that’s a good boy.”

He moved behind me as he spoke, hands trailing across my back up to my shoulders. As he finished, he ran his hands from top to bottom, pausing at my hips, then moving further downwards to give my buttocks, clothed as they were with my dress pants, a hard squeeze.

It was all I could do not to retaliate.’’

 

 


	2. Preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to balance flair of language with the smut. Apologies that this is the second chapter with only a little action.

I walk through the door. The room is dimly lit, the light purple and silver. Glossy black panels line all the walls but one, which is an expanse of mirror. The bed in the centre is black and silver. Laid out on it are clothes. This must be what Herodian wanted me to wear. I examine the pile. Neatly folded, on top, lies a pair of underwear. I pick them up. The fabric is silver, and feels at once slippery and taut. The cut is very brief, and they seem too small. Although I have no doubt they would fit. Herodian would have ensured all the clothes are my size. Underneath the silvery briefs is a garment made entirely of white. Upon closer inspection, I see fur, and tight material underneath.

Gosh, this guy must like looking at my body.

The tights are furry white, and I notice a section at the front and back at the top has been cut out. These pants were not designed for public wear. This makes me think- how much expense to these people go to in their private, hushed dealings? I move the tights to the side and view the final item of clothing. I had only ever seen this before in the Capitol. I manage to connect it to a word- corset. The garment is heavy, with white ribbing and silver detail. Merely a touch gives me a sense of how much it must have cost. As I survey these items, I get a sense of how unashamedly sexual they are. This man, who has confidence in the anonymity of his exchanges, pulls all the stops for his pleasure.

Remembering his command, I start to put on the clothes. I take off my current jacket and shirt, all fine suede, and drop the dress pants to the floor. I am left in the only garment undictated by the Capitol- my underwear. While my stylists put effort into my outer appearance, my request and Portia’s approval allowed me to keep this part of my old life. The shorts are small, a dull grey, the same you’d find on any District 12 boy. I have seen the range of undergarments available in the Capitol. For me, it doesn’t make sense that someone would spend a whole lot of money on something nobody public is ever going to see. But that’s just the way they do things.

I slip my underwear to the floor, leaving me standing naked in the room, my prosthetic leg having been covered by my prep team to suit the specific beauty standards of the Capitol. The leg still does not look real, but inspection would suggest  I reach across to pick up the silver undergarment, when I see a figure in the doorway. Herodion.

“Well there, don’t stop for me. Looks like I’ll be getting what I paid for, though” A lopsided smile comes across my face as he stares at my body. I have been naked multiple times around people, both back home and here in the Capitol getting prepped. But this is the first time I feel violated. The first time I feel like I need to cover up.

I grab the briefs and step into them as quickly as possible. As the fabric comes up my legs, I barely feel it. Bringing the garment to rest upon my hips confirms what I had thought. The silver material conforms almost entirely to the contours of my body. A glance down my back sees it outlining the covered part of my buttocks, before coming to the front and highlighting the features there. They fell unlike anything I had worn before as well- somehow both hard to the touch and soft at the same time. I become aware again of Herodion’s glances. I try to avoid his eye, but the task proves more difficult than that.

“You can face me while you dress, Peeta dear.” Herodion moved a few steps closer to me. “There’s a good boy.”

Against my better judgement, I turn to face him, revealing my barely covered front. He smiles more as he looks at me. Trying not to shudder, I pick up the tights and slip into them. Like the briefs, they come on easily and leave me feeling like I am wearing nothing. Looking down, my legs look covered in fur, with a gap of skin between where the tights finish and the briefs begin. Thanks to the constant attention of my prep team, my skin is perfect, and my body is in the best possible shape, but I still can’t help but feel self-conscious. I pick up the corset, still aware of Herodion’s glance. I realise I have no idea how to put it on.

“Struggling, are you?” I flick my head back to Herodion. He walks towards me. “Let me help you.”

Herodion comes up to me and takes the corset from my hands. He reaches around me, bringing his body close to mine. The corset is in his hands, but he forgets it for a moment as he brings his lips to collide with mine.

I feel his warmth against my body, as my bare chest touches the skin uncovered by his dressing gown. His arms are wrapped around my torso, and I feel both his hands and the corset he’s still holding digging into my back. The sudden onslaught of passion caught me off guard, and I didn’t know how to react. I just let him kiss me.

As sudden as he started, he stopped.

“That’s just a taste of what’s to come” he says, panting. Bringing the corset around my front, he positions it on my body. It had clasps at the front, but first he tightened some cords.

“Can you breathe?”

He wouldn’t want his toy passing out on him.

“Yes.” Although it was very tight.

“Good.” Herodion brings the clasps at the front together, and clicks them into place. Now I am dressed in the most sexualised outfit of my entire life. And I knew that Herodion would be ready to begin the night.

Putting his arms around me, he draws in for the kiss again. Just before he touches my lips, his head skirts to the side, facing my ear.  
“Kiss back. If you don’t want consequences. Please me. Kiss back. You don’t want anything to happen to your family.” 

Poison


	3. Intensity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a lemon. First time writing one, never experienced anything vaguely similar. If it is terrible, I apologise in advance. If it is good, then enjoy.

He kisses fully this time. As his lips touch mine, I bring myself to grab him as well. As I reach around his body and silk of his gown, I allow myself to be taken over by his grasp. Despite myself, I feel an arousal between my legs, as my cock begins to press against the silver briefs. As it hardens, I feel the loss of room in the front. However easy the underwear were to slip on, the front forms a cup which restricts movement. High tech fabric. To limit my pleasure and enhance his.

Knowing this, and beginning to feel a small pain from my restricted crotch, I kiss back with vigour. I know he can punish me however he wants if I don’t please him. Sensing my approach, he turns us around and flings me backwards onto the bed. His eyes fixed on mine, he drops his dressing gown to the floor. He is wearing underwear like mine, with the main difference that his stretch in the front. It’s all pleasure for Herodion. And they definitely are stretching at the front. Quite a bit.

Still in my splayed position on the bed, I see him come towards me. He crawls onto the bed, moving his body between my spread legs to bring his chest to rest against mine. Up close, I see his nipples are decorated with gold and jewels. Who goes to the trouble of bejewelling their nipples? Now I begin to get more of a notion of how sex is linked in with Capitol life.

His chest and torso touches mine as he descends onto my body. Reaching my head with his, he draws me in for another kiss, which I return. I reach up and rub my hands over his back. He grabs the back of my head, gripping the hair and causing a small amount of pain. I sense his crotch touching mine too, even through the hard barrier of my underwear. The corset now feels uncomfortable, digging into my chest. Herodion senses it too.

“Let’s get this off” he says, reaching to my chest to undo the clasps, before reaching around to loosen the cords. Pulling it off, it lies discarded on the floor. Now there is no barrier between his flesh and mine.

He continues to kiss, and I kiss back. His hands snake over my body- my neck, shoulders, front, back. Every now and then his fingers reach my nipples, grabbing the tips and twisting them. Every time he does so I moan, and he increases his passionate embrace.

As we continue to be entwined, I move my lips away from his, and onto his neck. Now kissing his neck and upper body, our bodies are raised, now upright. While prostitution is new to me, I have heard about sex, and how to pleasure a man. Discreet videos on the Capitol train and alone in Victor’s Village. But usually it was a girl giving the pleasure. Not me. My mouth moves lower, moving to suck on his left nipple. Initially worried by the adornments of gold, my fears are assuaged as I find my tongue rolls easily over them. As I suck, Herodion runs his hands down my back, grabbing my ass cheeks. His squeezes, more intense as I continue kissing, moving to his other nipple, send waves through my body, finding their end at the base of my cramped cock. I need a release too.

I bring my tongue down his chest, resting my lips at the edge of his underwear. Moving off his body for a short moment, I look into his eyes for confirmation. He nods, but makes no move to lower the sparkling briefs. I take the hint and begin the lick the outside, the outline of his cock made clear in the tight fabric. He hooks his finger into the waistband and lowers them. The fabric reveals 8 inches of penis, a penis that looks manicured, and possibly surgically extended. Capitol.

Readying myself, I close my eyes and move my mouth to the tip already sweating and salty with pre-cum. My tongue licks off the semi-opaque droplets, revolting at the taste. I put my mouth around the cock and ease it in. My mouth and tongue operate as I move back and forth, back and forth. The taste is not how I would have imagined, a cross between warm flesh and saltiness. My hands move to grip his thighs just as his hands grab my hair again, pulling my head back and forward painfully into his dick.

He increases his momentum as he moans, and I sense that he is ready to come soon. I in turn increase my mouth movements, going up and down the length. Every now and then I feel the back of my throat come in contact with his stiff member. Every time I pull back, but he pushes me back forwards. No matter how hard I try, and with a few gags, I cannot reach the end of his dick.

He is grunting, along with the moans. I hear an occasional “fuck” and other, more unintelligible words. In a moment, he increases his movements to a maximum, and I feel a surge come from the tip of his cock. I start to retreat, but his hands hold my head firmly in place.

“Swallow, boy.” Amidst the panting.

I steel myself and suck the liquid off the end of his cock. With my mouth full of cum, I swallow, my salty taste buds active and functioning. I feel his sperm pass down my throat, hot like the burning alcohol of Haymitch’s liquor. He pulls my head off his cock and pushes me backwards onto the bed. Panting, I look back up at him. His eyes are closed, fully naked in front of me. I close my eyes too, and hope  for a break.


	4. Feelings

Such a break does not come. As quickly as he came onto me, he now pulls me up, turning me over. All I see is the opulent pillows and coverings of the bed, but I feel everything. 

"On your knees. Spread your legs. Do not look at me, bitch."

I comply as well as I can, knowing what will be coming. I feel hands running across my lower back, down onto the raised cheeks of my ass. Soon I feel metal, some sick device, positioned right in the middle of my hole. With a moan, the device enters my body. It is the first time anything has been there.

"We pay well for virgins. This will be fun." A sadistic intensity corrupted Herodion's voice. I grimace with pain as the device that is inside me widens, opening up my innermost places to prepare me for Herodion's surgically enhanced penis. I am certain this will take no pleasure away from him.

A gasp of relief escapes me as the object leaves my anus, but I know any relief will be short lived. Herodion leans over me, grabbing my hair, and rubbing my back again. I feel the bed shift as he positions himself. His hands find their place on my hips, and I feel his body pressed against mine. Eyes closed, I feel the tip of his penis against my asshole. Then he enters. 

He begins slowly, and an arch of pain racks through my body. But following that pain, I feel a deep pleasure. And I hate myself for it. He goes easy for a while, easing in and out. Then the thrusting begins. His hips ram into my body, and his cock moves deeper into my hole, before soon being withdrawn. Each thrust sends the pleasure through me, a pleasure I had never felt before. Despite everything my mind tells me, my body is finding enjoyment in this encounter. This thought makes me forget about Herodion, for the moment. 

\---

Dressed, I glance back at the bedroom. For all the pounding my ass had taken the night before, I felt good. Herodion came up to me, moving in for one last kiss before I would have to go, leaving the night as a hushed memory.

"You'll be back, Peeta my dear. You have done well. I hope you know how important that is, knowing that I can pick and choose from any number of strapping boys. You should feel honoured."

I am repulsed by his words. However much I enjoyed the sex, I hated him. I hated my rapist. And I hated that it was certain to happen again.


End file.
